If the Lithuanian chambermaid who at half-past nine that night came to turn Barmy's bed down had been at all psychic - which, of course, very few Lithuanian chambermaids are - she would have sensed, as she went about her work, a strange, almost eerie atmosphere in Room 726, as of a room in a haunted house that is waiting for its spectre to clock in and start haunting. It is an atmosphere which always clings about those hotel apartments in New Haven, Syracuse, and other try-out towns where before long haggard men will be meeting to conduct the post-mortem on a newly opened play. It was as though Room 726 was holding its breath, anticipating it knew not what.
- P.G. Wodehouse, Barmy in Wonderland, p.132
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